


Spaceman's Sauce

by 1JettaPug



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: 1970s, Alcohol, Comfort, Drinking, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, One Shot, Rock Stars, Slash, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 08:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug
Summary: Ace was utterly wasted. At some point someone on the staff handed him a glass of champagne, and somehow it ended up with him holding two whole bottles in his arms. It didn't help that none of the staff members felt it in their own power to cut off the famous guitarist.





	Spaceman's Sauce

Ace was utterly wasted. At some point someone on the staff handed him a glass of champagne, and somehow it ended up with him holding two whole bottles in his arms. It didn't help that none of the staff members felt it in their own power to cut off the famous guitarist. 

So it wasn’t until about an hour or two later that Paul, Gene and Peter, from across the room, caught that infectious cackle of laughter that always tore free from Ace whenever he had had one too many. Gene's jaw became set, and he looked about ready to go over and smack the guitarist for embarrassing them by getting so drunk so quickly at this important event. Paul just seemed so done with the situation. His eyes met Peter's, and he motioned for him to go over and take care of his partner. To avoid any sort of fighting or arguing, Peter got up and strolled on over to him, quickly realizing that Ace was heavily swaying side to side.

“Oh hi, curly,” Ace said, not hearing the way his voice slurred. Even in his inebriated state, his eyes lit up at the sight of his favorite drummer coming up to him. “Itt ain't youuur saucer of creamsh, but it tastes goods and s’got bubbles.”

"Okay, Space Ace," The Catman said, calmly. "How much have you drunk?"

“I am drunk!” he said, loudly. Well, at least he knew he was.

Peter couldn't help but laugh at that. “Sure you are,” he snorted, moving an arm around the wide shoulder pads of his spacesuit in order to move them away from the rest of the party. He needed to get him back to their shared hotel room and get him some water.

As they walked, or stumbled in Ace's case, the Spaceman turned to look at him and proclaimed, “Holy shit, I'm drunk!”

“You're gonna be fine,” Peter told him. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, baby.”

The guitarist seemed to preen under the attention, smiling and giggling like a school girl who'd just been complimented. "I ams really pretty, yeah? S'good! Got a great face... legs and stuffs, too," he said, then proceeded to take another gulp of his champagne.

Reaching forward, Peter plucked the bottle from his hands. “I think you’ve had enough tonight.”

Quickly and angrily, Ace reached for it, to try and grab it back, but he over estimated his long arms and strength in his current state. He nearly toppled over, but Peter managed to catch the back of his outfit and cape with his free hand.

“Fucking hell! Ace, what's your deal?” he asked only to get a serious pout from his partner. "...Whatever. You've had enough; let’s just get you some water or something. C'mon.” He tried to steer him away from the walls of the hallway and to their room, but Ace, being taller and more stubborn when he was drunk, planted his boots on the ground and just stood. Growling at the childish behavior, Peter began to futilely push him forward.

“Fuck!” he cried out, exasperatedly. “C'mon, Ace! Just think about it! We haven't even been at this party for a couple of hours, and already I gotta haul your ass back to our room! So just move your feet already!"

“No! I want itsh back!” he snapped back at him, motioning for his bottle.

Peter growled and threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it completely. “Dammit, Frehley!” he cursed. He leaned over and snatched the other one out of his other hand and did the same thing to it.

Then it happened. It finally pierced through his muddled, drunk mind that Peter had called him by his last name instead of calling him Ace or any of his nicknames. It was more than enough to throw him off and cause an ache to form from within his chest.

“Kitty... Peter,” he muttered, hunching over a bit. "I'm... I meansh..." Ace frowned, curling his lip slightly as he did so. Even as the room around them spun, he knew somewhere in the back of his foggy mind that Peter had a point... but he just couldn't put it together right now. 

As Ace tried to process his thoughts, he allowed Peter to once again steer him in the direction of their hotel room.

“You don't have to say anything," the drummer muttered, softly.

“Like whatsh?” Ace wondered what he meant for a moment, but his mind soon tossed that thought out the door as they approached their room, finally.

Peter got the key out and slid it into the door, all the while trying to manage holding all of Ace's weight on top of him at this point. In his confused state, he had looped his long limbs around his shoulders to try to remain standing since his legs were starting to collapse under themselves.

"C'mon," Peter groaned, lugging Ace alongside him. "We're almost to the bed."

Ace began whining and tightened his hold on his partner. "I don'ts want to-" he hiccuped. "Let go!"

The drummer rolled his eyes at him. Did he think that if he let go that he'd fly off or something? "I'm just gonna set you down on the bed, baby."

Ace huffed as Peter undid his arms and tried to help him move forward. It never helped in these types of situations that Ace already had the world's worst balance, so he stumbled and fell onto the carpeted floor before Peter could catch him. His cape fell around him and his long legs kicked out beneath him in frustration.

"Christ, Ace," Peter muttered, massaging his temples in frustration. "Turn over so I can take your boots off."

"W- What bootsh...?" he slurred, losing his train of thought midway through the sentence.

As if he were taking care of a three-year-old, Peter turned him over and began to help him remove his boots, then cape and finally the top half of his outfit. 

"M'tired, kitty,"

"I'd imagine so," Peter shook his head, his hand gently moving the stray hairs out of Ace's face. "So let's get you into the bed, so you can catch some sleep. Also, I hope you know that you're gonna have one bitching hangover tomorrow, baby."

"Sure, sure, curly," Ace laughed, as if that somehow served as a response to whatever he thought he heard Peter say. Suddenly, he stopped giggling, fingers latching onto the side of Peter's shirt as he doubled over and retched all over the floor.

"Aww, for fuck's sake..." Peter sighed, holding Ace's hair back as he retched and coughed it all out of his system. At least this whole fiasco didn't end with him throwing furniture out the window... "Just get it all out, baby. Then I'll get you some water before bed."

"Too fuckin' nicessh, kitty-" Ace muttered through his spells. He held onto his partner with a death-grip, feeling like letting go of him would end with him falling into the pit he'd dug himself into. "Too fuckin' good fer me...!"

Peter's eyes softened ever so slightly, and he sighed. "Just take your time, Space Ace. We got all night..." he told him, gently patting his partner's back in reassurance. "I'll be by your side all night."


End file.
